


Giving Thanks

by ChiaraRose



Series: Win Lives [2]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: F/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaraRose/pseuds/ChiaraRose
Summary: In this Trixieverse, Jim's father is alive and living with Jim at Ten Acres (which did not burn). Chronologically, it comes before canon book #5, Mystery in Arizona, just after Thanksgiving, an important Bob-White holiday. This story is for the people who wanted to know how my new couples got together--oh, and what about Ben?I rated it Mature for the mention of an illegal (at that time & place, a few years ago in New York) drug. No, I don't have a recipe for the holiday treats.





	Giving Thanks

Fifteen-year-old Jim Frayne burst through the front door of Ten Acres with his friends right behind him. To Jim's father, reading by the living room fire, it sounded like they'd brought their horses into the house.

The cold had turned Jim's face as red as his hair. As he rummaged through the downstairs closet that housed his sporting equipment, he shouted, ""Dad, we're going skating and stuff."

"Fine," said Winthrop Frayne, closing his book and beginning the painful process of getting to his feet.

He wasn't sure Jim or any of the other Bob-Whites heard him. In seconds, Jim located what he wanted and clamored back through the front door, yelling, "Bye, Dad," with the Bob-White chorus calling after him, "Bye, Mr. Frayne."

With Jim gone, likely until dark, it would be a good afternoon to mix chocolate, Win thought. The Thanksgiving holiday had been manic, and it was now ending with winter's first heavy snow, burying the hillsides and deep-freezing the ponds. Incredibly to Win, the Bob-Whites recovered more than their former spirits as they tried to squeeze all possible winter activities on the day before school started. He looked out the window with a smile.

Glen Road was invisible from the hilltop where the Ten Acres mansion perched. This morning all he could see was a sheet of glittering white, smooth as icing. Snow-burdened trees, their branches drooping to the ground. Now paths snaked through the icing, formed by solitary travelers wending their way through the heavy powder. Jim had cut a path through the driveway; the neighbor boy Ben had trudged from his house to Ten Acres to shovel the rest of the driveway. An evergreen blocked him from Win's sight, but he could hear a shovel clang and scrape the concrete: Ben was still hard at work. Now the Bob-Whites had trampled a wide thoroughfare to the house and away to the lake, making it easier for future trips.

Win took his time getting to the kitchen. Soft, slow steps hurt his back and legs less. Still deliberate, he pulled out the ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator. Then he heard what he'd been waiting for.

"It's me, Dad. We need the--" Jim's voice was lost in the clatter from his sports closet.

Win smiled as he limped to his bedroom for the last ingredient. Jim never called from school saying that he'd forgotten his lunch money or important homework. He was more likely to race back a few minutes after he left the house, because he always checked his belongings right away. Of course, that meant someone had to drive him to school when he missed the bus.

Win loved seeing him so happy, already with friends in this new town. Each day brought back a few more seconds of joy, of the old Jim whose mother didn't have cancer yet. Win was glad to see Jim reclaiming his childhood, but sometimes Jim's happiness seemed to take him further away, leaving Win suffering on the sidelines. Of course, he always put on a smile when he was around Jim's friends and their parents, always playing the part of Perfect Middle Class Dad, trying not to show how unconnected he felt. He welcomed a day alone to step off the stage for a few hours.

He scowled at the bright blue sky, which lied about the biting wind and deep chill that Win could feel even in the toasty warm house. A sobbing gray winter would suit his mood better in this first holiday season without Katy.

He began the futile exercise of counting his blessings: his new job with Wheeler Enterprises that promised to let him scrabble back from the bankruptcy from Katy's illness and his car wreck; the health insurance from the job that might let him repair his broken body; Jim's new life and happiness in Sleepyside; Uncle James' leaving his fortune and property to Jim, not Win, securing Jim's future no matter what happened to his father. This last thought always brought a sigh of relief, even though Uncle James had done it because he was a crazy old curmudgeon trying to make Win's life harder.

Win even begrudged a sliver of gratitude for this holiday weekend. As much as he'd dreaded Thanksgiving, it had gone by in a whirl, with the Thanksgiving meal at the Wheelers' Manor House, the Belden's traditional open house, and the Lynch party on Saturday that introduced Caro Lynch's real brother to Sleepyside. Win stayed just a few minutes at the last event, exhausted and in pain after so much activity every day. He was happy that the snowfall last night made it impossible to get out, unless you were a fifteen-year-old boy with a shovel and friends you had to see.

His heart aching as much as his legs and back, Win stared out the window towards the lake. He decided even he deserved a holiday treat. He would make rum balls on his blessedly isolated day. From the time Jim was two, Katy had him cooking with her in the kitchen. She thought rum balls (with rum extract instead of alcohol) would be a fun thing for a toddler to make, since you couldn't avoid making a mess, what with mixing the ingredients with your hands,rolling them into balls, and dipping them into powdered sugar. Win had laughed until he choked, but that might have been from the powdered sugar and cocoa in the air, thick as metropolitan smog. They'd made rumballs every Christmas after that, with less mess each year as Jim grew up.

Making chocolate treats always gave his spirits a swift, if small, boost, even now. He couldn't do much else to really help Katy. He loved seeing her face relax as she savored the chocolate, as the fierce pain retracted its claws and slunk off for awhile. And that reminded him of their honeymoon, of him feeding her Godiva chocolates that she savored, rolling one around her mouth, working it with her tongue until it melted completely, while the ocean rumbled outside their window and the sun scattered dancing shadows on the white sheets.

Several rumballs later, he was still smiling when someone rapped on the back door. He cast a look around his table and rearranged the items, presenting first the decorative box that held the completed candies. "Come in," he called, trying to infuse a welcome into his words.

He sighed with relief when Margery Trask entered the mudroom. When he'd met her, she was governess to Matthew Wheeler's daughter Honey, but she'd gradually taken over managing the Manor House estate, now that Honey attended Sleepyside Junior-Senior High. Her presence allowed Matt and Madeleine Wheeler to jet around wherever and whenever they liked, secure in the knowledge that their daughter was cared for. He'd come to think of Margery as a single parent with a single child, like himself. She certainly concerned herself more with Honey than the girl's parents did, and he felt closer to her than the other Glen Road adults. He recognized something in her that spoke of deep sorrow, sorrow that she'd set aside for the sake of other people.

He'd thought at first that she was older than she was. Later he theorized that teachers probably try to seem older, to add some heft to their authority. Margery's soft brown curls sparkled with silver. She wore simple, classic clothes that camouflaged her gentle curves, but her clean-scrubbed face was unlined. The sculpted beauty of Madeleine Wheeler and Caro Lynch left him cold, but he was always glad to see Margery, who reminded him of Katy, if only that her priorities seemed to be the same as his wife's. On his better days, he wondered if Margery would like to go for a burger at Wimpy's or a movie at the Cameo, but the bad days always told him what a crazy idea that was, as if competent Miss Trask could have any possible use for the crippled man he'd become in body and soul.

"The kids were just here, but they were heading for the lake, I think," said Win, warmer than his first words.

"I know. I ran into them, and Jim said you were probably in the kitchen." After divesting herself of all her winterwear, Margery gave him a bright smile and joined him at the table. "These smell so good. I can see where Jim gets his cooking skills."

Win laughed. "That would be his mother actually. She taught both of us." Hands shaking, he reached into the second bowl of dough. Making an effort to keep his voice casual, he said,"Let me make you another one. I've been working on some for Mrs. DeVere. Hers have to be made a certain way because of her cancer. Would you like a cup of coffee, tea, or cocoa?" After he handed her the treat, he stood and moved to the Keurig machine.

"Black coffee, if I'm going to stay awake and keep up with Honey tonight as she gets ready for school. My goodness, those kids have energy!"

Win agreed. He waited for the water to get hot enough to brew and brought Margery a steaming mug. It was too hot to drink, but she warmed her hands on the mug.

After her first sip, she commented, "You weren't at the Lynches very long yesterday. Were you feeling all right?"

Win twisted a smile as he folded himself back into his chair. "I was worn out after all the high life of the holiday. I hope the Lynches weren't offended. I was relieved the Beldens could bring Jim home, so that I didn't have to stop his fun."

"I'm sure he wouldn't see it that way. In fact, I only noticed when Monty Lynch told us his plan."

Win raised an eyebrow, wondering what adventure the Bob-Whites were headed for now. It would be nice to have had a break after the recent danger and excitement. "Plan?"

Margery nodded. "He's invited all the Bob-Whites to spend Christmas at his dude ranch in Arizona. Ed Lynch offered to pay everyone's air fare."

"Well, that's nice of him."

"Jim said right away that he couldn't go and leave you alone. So I looked for you to convince you otherwise. That's when I found you weren't there. Honey was so disappointed that Jim couldn't come. She sees Jim as the anchor for the Bob-Whites. Mr. Honorable, she calls him."

Surprised, Win mulled that over. "Yes, that suits him. I couldn't be prouder of him, to have earned that nickname."

Margery smiled. "Jim is a lovely and loving boy. If you have Christmas traditions that you don't want to break, I understand, but otherwise, can we come up with a way to send Jim to Arizona and still take care of you?" Her eyes dropped to Mrs. DeVere's fancy box of treats.

"Let me make you another," said Win, stalling, reaching for the dough. His thoughts jumbled around like papers under a revolving fan. "There's no reason Jim can't go to Arizona if he wants. To tell the truth--" Did he really want to do that? He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "To tell the truth, I've been dreading Christmas. It's our first without Katy. She died on December 29, and I'm having a hard time being the jolly old elf a parent's supposed to be. If I took a helicopter view, moving away from my own feelings, I'd say that the best thing for Jim and me would be to have a completely different for Christmas this year, so as not to compare it to holidays with his mother." His eyes strayed to the kitchen counter nearest the mudroom, where a photo of a young, healthy Katy sat beside an orange paper marigold and a wooden box.

Margery turned around to see what he was looking at. "Oh! You've still got your altar up. Reverend Hernandez gave such a good sermon for All Souls' Day."

"Yes. I don't know if it's the traditional Hispanic explanation for All Souls' Day, but I liked his idea of setting aside a day to talk to our loved ones before the onslaught of the winter holidays, when we feel their absence so much. And the ceremony of putting our photos on the church altar and giving everyone orange marigolds--well, it was very touching."

Margery blinked the mist out of her eyes. "It was Jim's idea for the Bob-Whites to make home altars, with the wooden letter boxes the boys and Trixie built and the paper marigolds and bedazzled frames Honey and Di made. They made one for me too, for my parents. Honey and I keep ours in our bedrooms."

Win caught a glimpse of her sorrow, but he didn't think she would want him to mention it. Instead he limped to the altar, where he opened the letter box so that Margery could see its contents, several envelopes and a small book. "I've written a few letters to Katy, but this is Jim's." He held up a child's diary with a delicate lock. "Jim always did his homework in the kitchen, under his mother's eye, so he likes having her photo there, even though he has his Uncle James' old desk in his room. The last thing he does each night is write to his mother in this diary. I'm grateful to Reverend Hernandez for the idea. I think it's doing Jim a lot of good."

"I'm sure it is! You too, I hope."

Win avoided her teacher's eyes. "I'm sure it would, if I could do more of it. I feel like there's so much dammed up inside, and I wobble between not daring to let it out and not being able to find a genuine feeling anywhere. But you didn't come here to listen to me. Jim can certainly go to Arizona. I can get around as much as I need to, and we can grocery shop and cook ahead of time."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'll suggest that the Bob-Whites make you some food to freeze. Each of them has a specialty dish. I don't like for Honey--or any of them--to get the idea that the world is their oyster for the grabbing or that they can always get what they want by asking with a smile. The Wheelers have been wealthy all of her life, with all the indulgence that implies. If the Bob-Whites want Jim to go with them, they can put some effort into the matter."

Win's smile was tender. "I knew you must be guiding them in the background. They're all good kids, but goodness does have to be cultivated. Yes, I'll eat their food, even Trixie's bean salad." He shook his head as his face fell into an expression as bleak as winter. "You probably know that I evaluate investment possibilities for Wheeler Enterprises. One of Matt's potential partners is hosting a cruise, Holiday on the High Seas. Matt wanted me to go, at least until Christmas Eve, when they drop off all the people who want to get home for Christmas. I told him no, because I need to stay with Jim during his first Christmas season without his mother. So Jim and I both turned down trips for each other's sake, not that I wanted to go anyway. I don't usually meet the subjects. I look at their numbers. "

Miss Trask the math teacher nodded. "Figures don't lie."

"But as we say in my business, 'liars can figure.' That's my job, to find out where they're figuring and fiddling."

She smiled at his joke but leaned forward, her blue eyes intense. "Madeleine wanted me to go as her assistant, but I said I needed to stay home with Honey. Madeleine thought Honey could stay at the Beldens. I couldn't find the words to convince her how much Honey wants to do things with her own family. It would just hurt her so much to be in the kind of family she wants so badly. I know Matt and Madeleine love her, but when Honey asked them if she could go to Arizona, they brightened up and said now they could stay on the cruise until New Year's Day. They were going to come back to have Christmas with her, but they'd both think it was a great holiday if someone else decorated their house, someone else cooked the food, someone else bought and wrapped the presents--but Honey wants to do all those things with her own family. She looked hurt for a second when they said that, but they never see those moments."

He started to reach across the table to squeeze her hand but thought better of it. "Since the Wheelers hosted us for Thanksgiving, we should host our belated Christmas here. Jim and Honey can cook and decorate until their hearts' content. I know it's not the same, but it would be something."

"It would, and Honey would love it. She should learn how to do such things, so that she can do them with her future family. I should warn you that Jim said they were going to gather evergreens to make Advent wreaths, so your kitchen will be full of teenagers and pine branches this evening."

Another rap on the back door made Win raise his eyebrows. Again he called, "Come in."

A big teenager, a year or so older than Jim, filled the doorway. He looked as athletic as Jim, but where Jim was lean and supple, Ben's broad shoulders and bulk made him a natural for the football team, even though he was new in town. His features resembled those of the many Dutch inhabitants of Sleepyside, but his skin carried an olive tint inherited from his Puerto Rican grandmother.

"Margery, this is Ben DeVere. He lives with his grandmother down and off Glen Road a ways. Very close, actually, but not by roads. Ben, this is Miss Trask, who oversees the Wheeler place."

"Hello, Ben," said Margery. "I don't think I've met your grandmother, but I moved here just last summer."

"Hullo," said Ben, looking at his feet. "My grandmother's sick. She doesn't go out much. Mr. Frayne, I finished shoveling your driveway. You can get your car out now."

Win said as he reached for his wallet, "That was fast, Ben. I saw what time you started working."

"Jim had already cleared a footpath," Ben replied. "It was pretty wide."

Win explained, "Ben helps Jim keep up the grounds. Ten acres is too much for one person to handle, but this way Jim has time for Scouts and the Bob-Whites and Ben has time for football. Ben, the kids went down to the lake to skate, if you want to join them."

"My grandmother needs me at home. She went to church this morning and it really tired her out. Plus she wants me to make pasteles--tamales--for her. She wanted a traditional Thanksgiving meal. The church brought us one, but it was turkey and dressing, and in Puerto Rico they eat pasteles. Took me three days to find the ingredients. In New York, any bodega would have them." Ben's eyes rested on the candy box. "I can take her Christmas present, if you want."

In his firmest father voice, Win said, "We've been over that, Ben. I'll bring it over later today, if she needs it that soon. I made rumballs for the holidays. Will she like those?"

For the first time, Ben's face broke from default teenage indifference into guffaws. "My grandmother, she doesn't hold with drinking."

Win struggled to keep a straight face. "I can get some plain rum extract without alcohol and make another batch."

Still laughing, Ben told him, "Oh, she'll eat them, right enough. She and her friends at church always turn up their noses when somebody brings a dish with alcohol, but it's always the first one people eat. I've seen her at the front of the line too many times."

Win couldn't help smiling. "I'll bring these and see what she says."

"Okay. Thanks. Nice to meet you, Miss Trask." Ben pocketed the cash as he returned to imperturbable teenage mode and shuffled out the door.

Margery looked puzzled. Win struggled to concoct an explanation for his refusal to give Ben the chocolates. He heard every noise his house and its machines could make: the creaking of the old walls, the ticking of Uncle James' clock, the hum of the refrigerator, the grumbling of the baseboard heating ducts. He turned his gaze to the nearest window, where he could see paths of all sizes slashing through the snow--lonely, struggling single journeys, to sturdy, straighter paths made by pairs--one by Honey and Trixie, another by Brian and Mart--and finally the highway made by the herd of Bob-Whites, all together now. Contemplating the points of joining, Win decided that Margery had to know him, not the image he tried to portray. He inhaled the rum and cocoa aroma in the room; somehow it relaxed him to the point where he dared to drop his Perfect Dad act. "Earlier this year the courts sent Ben to his grandmother. He was getting into trouble, and neither of his parents could provide a home. But she has cancer, and I'm not sure she'll live until Ben graduates. I met him when he was growing marijuana. He was distilling the oil and putting it in food to help with her pain and nausea. I did the same for Katy and me. I ran out of money and insurance before I had all the surgeries the doctors wanted. I tried all the drugs, but the only way they helped was if they knocked me out. I couldn't take care of Katy and Jim in that state. So I make my own pain medicine." He moved the lid to the fancy box and picked up a syringe half full of dark oil. "My secret ingredient."

Margery's eyes seemed moist. "But you work for Wheeler Enterprises. Don't you have insurance now?"

"I just started with them in September. I had to wait ninety days for benefits, of course. There's no way I'd try to get medical care in December, when everybody's trying to get as much care as possible before they have to meet their deductibles again in January. Believe me, I have doctor appointments already set up the first week of the new year. I'd much rather be a law-abiding citizen. But I told Ben I'd provide his grandmother with marijuana-infused candy or brownies, to keep him out of trouble. He'd be sent to juvie for sure. And since I've been visiting her, I've managed to steer her to more cancer resources, for which, sadly, I have much expertise. Like the volunteer group that helps with housework and rides for treatment." He waved a hand over the table. "Most of this is for her and me. I'll make a batch for Jim without the drug, like those I made for you." He glanced at her expression, but she'd been a teacher too long to show any expression besides a faint sympathy, enough to keep the subject talking, just like he was doing as he stripped off the careful façade he'd worked so hard to build. In the ruins of his illusion, he began to regret his impulse.

She stood as a parent to Honey. However much sympathy Margery might have for him, she was going to protect her charge. He hoped he hadn't cost Jim his new friends. "I want you to know that I don't bring this stuff out when Jim is in the house. The edibles and oil stay locked in a little safe in my room, like I did with Katy's and my medicines. They were just too dangerous to leave out. The guns stay locked up too, in a cabinet with two locks. Jim has one key, and I have the other. We both have to be present for one of us to take out a gun. I would never allow it when he's with friends."

The silence was unbearable, heavy as the wet snow. He bowed his head, like a criminal waiting for sentence. "I just want you to know that children are as safe under my roof as I can manage. I don't want law enforcement or CPS to say that they were exposed to drugs or violence, no matter what my other crimes might be." Somewhere in the house an electronic device chirped a pointless notification. A phone jingled. He felt like crushing it underfoot. The only sound that mattered were Margery's next words. He wanted to shout, but instead he said in a low voice, "I understand if you don't want anything to do with me, but I hope you won't break up the Bob-Whites. Of course, Jim and I will abide by whatever restrictions you feel you need to set."

Margery's brow furrowed. "Let me see if I understand. You risked arrest to keep your wife out of pain and to make sure you could take care of your family. You're risking arrest for a neighbor and her grandson, a neighbor I've never met, much less helped, although I've been on Glen Road longer than you have. Furthermore you go to great lengths to keep dangerous substances out of your son's hands and to give him as normal a life as possible, in the face so many tragedies. Win Frayne, you're my hero."

Win's mouth dropped open. "I? Me? Anybody would--"

She smiled a brisk classroom smile. "No, anybody wouldn't. You forget how many parents I've known, how many parents I've begged to provide just the basics for their children." Her eyes stared into the distance as she turned inward. "I've often wondered if marijuana could help my sister. She has so many seizures. I know it will be legal in the near future, at least for medicinal purposes, but I feel like her doctors have given up on anything but simply keeping her alive. And I'm not sure how interested they are in that."

Sadness hung between them, as heavy the creaking roof, smothered in snow. But relief nudged through Win, like tiny green shoots in the spring. "I'm sorry. I know how what that feels like. Maybe you could try CBD oil first. It's legal."

There wasn't much joy behind her attempt at a smile. "Do you think so? Maybe you could help me find some for when I see her at New Year's. I told my brother he had to be with her for Christmas, because I thought I'd have to stay here with Honey."

"Of course I will. But you could go be with both of them for Christmas now, with the kids going to Arizona," said Win.

She shook her head. "My brother and I together would ruin the jolliest of holidays. I hope someday we can work things out, but for now I'll leave our plans as they were. Maybe I'll tell Madeleine that I'll come on the cruise."

"Would you? I'll tell Matt I will too, but it would be so much better with someone I know on board too--and not only the Wheelers. They'll be in full business mode. Do say you'll go, Margery. We can bail on Christmas Eve."

She admitted, "I'd hate to be stuck on a boat for ten days. But then what would we do when the ship drops us at Ft. Lauderdale? Getting a flight anywhere will be impossible. Or if not impossible, miserable!"

Win thought about it. A slow smile wiped out the pain and worry lines. "It would be. But I bet there's hotels still available in Ft. Lauderdale, maybe even some on the beach. I haven't been to the beach since my honeymoon, and I can't remember my last vacation. Maybe when Katy and I brought Jim to meet his Great Uncle James, when he was four? But a whole week with no responsibilities to anyone? How long ago would that have been?"

Margery turned pink and breathless. "Never! Not after I was fifteen, anyway. It sounds like the most wonderful plan in the world. I am going to lie on the beach and read mysteries. Or maybe by the pool, where pool boys will bring me food and drinks." She tilted her chin up with a touch of rebellion. "Lots of drinks. And mysteries."

Win laughed, excited for what the future might bring.

#

Outside, underneath the kitchen window, two teenagers, bundled against the winter, held each other's gloved hands and jumped up and down in the powdery snow. Delighted green eyes met sparkling hazel eyes.

The taller teen, red hair sticking out from his knitted hat, whispered, "You were right, Honey. All you had to do was mention it to Miss Trask, and she fixed it so I could go to Arizona with you."

Honey tucked her chin in her puffy coat and giggled. "And my parents will be so happy your father and Miss Trask are going on Daddy's cruise."

"And then taking a vacation in Florida! I haven't heard my dad so happy in, gosh, forever!"

"Oh, Jim, what if they start dating and then get married? You'll be like my almost brother, because Miss Trask is like my almost mother. I've always wanted a big brother, like Trixie has, though not the same of course!"

"We must be family, because I understood every word of that! I've always wanted a sister or brother, and I'd rather have you than anybody! Mom would be so happy. She told me before she died she wanted Dad to marry again. She hoped I'd help him with that, or at least not be nasty about it." Jim wiped his face with his leather glove.

Inside the house, Win said, "Did you hear voices, Margery?"

Jim and Honey exchanged impish looks and ran towards the woods, retracing the path back to their friends.


End file.
